


been fooled by your smile

by cxyst



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Body Worship, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cxyst/pseuds/cxyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a kid at the radio station tells nick he needs to lose weight, and he does not does not care</p>
            </blockquote>





	been fooled by your smile

**Author's Note:**

> i was listening to old free downloads of nick’s show and there was that one with the child who was their soccer team manager and he told nick to lose weight if he wanted to be a good player and being the defensive brat i am, i got defensive
> 
> this is just a short, shitty little thing that i wrote in class and complained about lots to dom and kate
> 
> really, don't read it
> 
> ♡title from thought of you by justin bieber♡

nick distracts himself all day. it’s easy, really, to call aimee and go out for stiff drink and a lunchtime bitch. and then alexa texts and says she’s back in london for a bit, and so they go to hers to drink and bitch some more.

somehow it gets to be late afternoon, and then early evening. nick is in alexa’s courtyard on his fifth vodka and redbull with rita on his lap, thinking that he’s quite good at forgetting things, he’s good at talking around painful subjects and past sore spots, chattering mindlessly until his brain feels numb and floaty. it’s like when he’s exhausted and hung over and pissed off but he still manages his chirpy, ‘hiyaaaa, good mornin’, this is nick grimshaw with you until ten,’ as soon as they go on air.

the sky is lilac and nick forgets to feel fat because he is laughing so hard at the words ‘derry londonderry’ and the fact that they’ve all said them so many times they’ve forgotten they started out being sarcastic about it. of course he is teased mercilessly for leaving early after his phone blasts out some bloody one direction tune harry set for himself and lights up with, ‘can i come over? in london for a night before i go see mum’.

he texts harry back in the cab, a fumbling, ‘i’m a tad smashed but please yeah come haz’. the stars swing by the grimy windows and the world blurs. it’s harder when he’s alone, and he spends most of the car ride straining his leg muscles, trying to keep his thighs from squishing out against the seat and making him feel even more huge than he already does.

when he finally makes it up his stairs and into his apartment, he’s almost forgotten again, until he reaches for a martini glass and his jumper rides up and he catches a flash of love handles and tummy in the microwave door. when harry lets himself in, nick is hunched over the kitchen bench, almost certainly getting a brain-freeze but unwilling to lift his head from the marble.

nick can hear harry smiling as he pulls up a bar stool and slides long fingers into the hair at the back of nick’s head, scratching gently. ‘you can’t possibly be hung over yet.’

‘‘m not,’ nick mumbles, trying not to sound as shit as he feels and train-wrecking immediately. he lifts his head a bit and attempts to school his face into a non-devastated expression. ‘how are you, babe?’

harry shrugs, ‘good. nice to have a longer break for once. you?’

‘i’m good, too,’ nick says. ‘so we’re both good then, i guess.’

harry’s dumb starry eyes are looking into nick’s in an entirely too searching way, so he drops his head down again and smears his words into the tabletop. ‘stop knowing everything.’

harry scratches at nick’s scalp again, wide nails soothing, then traces the shell of his ear. nick closes his eyes and feels the responding wave of goosebumps shimmer down the back of his neck. he can feel harry waiting, but it’s not even a big deal and nick doesn’t want to ruin the night and. and stuff.

he is too drunk for this.

‘did you listen to the show this mornin’?’ nick says finally, and it’s so quiet and slurred that harry could pretend not to hear if he wanted.

‘bits and pieces between meetings,’ harry replies gently, ‘why?’

nick turns his head to the side, attempting to spread the frostbite from his forehead onto his cheek, and forces a laugh. ‘we had tha’ kid in, the one who’s our football manager or wha’ever?’

‘oh yeah, i heard that bit,’ harry presses his fingertips into nick’s stubbled jawline, the hollow of his pulse point. nick is ticklish there, but he doesn’t flinch.

‘so, like, he was really funny and stuff, yeah? like tha’ was a good segment, wasn’ it? i though’ he was pretty funny.’

‘i thought he was a bit up himself, if i’m honest,’ harry says, and he knows.

and nick knows he knows so he looks up and makes a stupid ‘silly me, right?’ face, and harry is shaking his head already. ‘he’s a tactless little brat, nick, don’t worry about it.’

without looking up from the marble bench, nick pushes up onto his elbows and goes to fix his quiff. harry’s hand is already there, smoothing it back.

‘yeah, but like,’ nick lets out a long breath, suddenly feeling far too sober. ‘wisdom from the mouths of babes, and all that.’

‘no, sweetheart, come on,’ and nick is almost half-smiling at the silly pet name when harry leans down to kiss him quickly. ‘you’re gorgeous and you know it.’

nick’s stomach twists a little, uncomfortable at the compliment. he’s never really gotten used to the way harry is so open, so reckless with his love.

‘but, it’s like, i’m not exactly ripped like you, mr. popstar. maybe i’ve put on a bit much without realising and-’ nick is stammering like he never does, staring at harry’s kiss-pink lips to avoid his eyes. ‘i dunno, maybe he’s a tactless brat with a point? or something?’

‘fucking-’ harry rolls his eyes and walks around the bench, and it strikes nick for only the millionth time how fucking long and gorgeous his boy is. only this time it hurts, a little less like ‘fuck, that’s my boyfriend, he is very extremely hot’ and more like ‘fuck, that’s my boyfriend, and i am not and never will be as hot as he is’. because he knows that part of the reason harry looks so lean and lovely is because his stomach is flat and his hips are skinny.

nick feels like crying and that is super duper not happening.

‘it’s fine, i’m fine,’ he says as harry slips his arms around his waist. nick lets his head fall onto harry’s chest a little, fingers scrunching in the soft material of his jumper. ‘i’m fine.’

harry sighs into the side of his neck, then kisses him there, small and warm and wet. ‘babe, you don’t have to be fine.’

nick lifts his head a little, kisses at harry’s collarbone in return. ‘i know,’ he says. ‘i’m not fine. stop being hotter than me.’

harry’s chest shudders once with a soft burst of laughter. ‘you’re ridiculous and you’re fucking lovely,’ he presses his mouth to the same place under the hinge of nick’s jaw, sucks the skin there a little. ‘fuck, you don’t even know.’

nick shivers, tilts his head a little so harry can kiss the place again, harder. his tongue works over the flushing softness, and nick can feel it beginning to mark and he likes it. ‘you’re dumb,’ he breathes, but it’s half-hearted. he is too tired and sad and inadequate to fight this.

‘you’re dumber,’ harry mumbles, lips wet on nick’s neck, before he latches on again. his fingers flex against nick’s hips, fumbling through his belt loops, and all nick can think is ‘love handles love handles love handles he’s gonna feel them i’m fat there don’t’. he whimpers a little into harry’s shoulder and promptly feels like an idiot.

harry bites a little then smears his lips away from the light red mark on nick’s neck, pulling back to lift nick’s face up. ‘hey, hey,’ his voice is so soft and careful. nick doesn’t want to look at him, hates how vulnerable he feels, but does it anyway. harry’s eyes are green green green as he presses a thumb into the mark he just made. ‘you’re mine and you’re perfect, okay? just-’ harry leans in to drag his mouth lightly over nick’s bottom lip. ‘don’t think you’re not.’

‘‘s it then,’ nick smiles a little, but it’s soft, sad, ‘‘m just not allowed?’

‘correct,’ harry nods minutely.

they just stand, swaying a little, and nick is not not going to cry, then harry says, ‘come on, sweetheart,’ and starts leading him upstairs.

nick leaves his phone and half-drunk martini in the kitchen and follows blindly, vulnerable and trusting as he is in this moment. he concentrates on the feeling of harry’s hand, rucking up under his shirt to rest on his lower back. it is everything harry is in that moment; guiding and supporting and warm. it makes nick’s stomach tighten up with something he doesn’t want to begin to describe.

‘lie down, darling,’ harry tells him, and nick takes a breath before detaching from harry and getting on the bed. he crosses his arms over his stomach and curls his knees up a little, feeling sensitive and exposed even though he’s still fully clothed.

he watches harry pull off his shoes, swaying and hopping dangerously with his hair in his eyes, and it is all awfully endearing until he starts unbuttoning his jeans and revealing long, toned lengths of pale thigh. nick has to look away. he swallows hard and tries to brush it off, says, ‘speaking of tactless brats, how dare you get naked,’ in a huffed laugh.

harry just murmurs, ‘shh, you,’ and crawls onto the bed. ‘jus’ don’t want to get a hard on in my jeans, is all. uncomfortable.’

harry’s still in his t-shirt, which is a blessing to say the least, because nick’s eyes feel hot and prickly already and he will not fucking cry. he circles a hand around nick’s ankle and eases his legs out straight, goes for his zipper.

nick whimpers, ‘harry,’ and it’s concerningly quiet by his standards, but harry’s eyes just flick up quickly before he goes back to working at the zip. ‘haz, i-’

‘shhh.’ harry presses a kiss to nick’s hip bone and slips his fingers into the back of his jeans. ‘lift your hips up.’

nick closes his eyes and does, lets harry slide his trousers off and throw them to the floor. as soon as there’s skin on show he is all over it, sliding his hands up nick’s thighs, all pressing fingers and huge, gentle palms.

‘so gorgeous, nick, so good, i love you,’ he says, voice low and rough like it only is when he’s turned on, and nick kind of just wants to curl up and die.

he is flushing already, heat creeping down his face and neck. he doesn’t open his eyes, just feels as harry swings a leg over his, leans down to nuzzle his face into the fabric of nick’s pants, where his hip smooths into his thigh. harry’s fingers slide under his t-shirt, over his tummy. nick tenses, nervous.

‘don’t,’ harry whispers. the air changes and nick feels lips against his. harry’s breath is sweet in his mouth. ‘you’re so hot, nick, don’t.’

nick shakes his head a bit. he feels overexposed, sensitive. one of harry’s hands is still on his tummy, tracing soft patterns there.

‘i’m gonna take your shirt off, okay?’

nick chokes out a laugh and finds harry’s hand where it’s tangled in the hem of his shirt. it all just seems so ridiculous, that he should have to ask, but at the same time nick is glad he has.

‘do you have to?’ he grimaces, finally opening his eyes. harry is looking down at him and he looks so gentle and sympathetic that nick feels like all his organs are switching places.

he leans down to kiss his the mark on nick’s jawline. it’s achey now, must be a soft purple. ‘no,’ harry says, ‘but i want to.’

nick lets out a long breath. he feels so fucking ridiculous, so he tries to keep up his bluster, his teasing. it’s easier like that. ‘if you must, popstar.’

harry ignores the crack in nick’s voice and lifts his shirt off, urging his arms up above his head. then the clothing is on the ground and harry is pressing nick’s wrists into the bed with one hand, licking into his mouth.

and this is okay, nick can do this. he can concentrate on the soft swipes of harry’s tongue and the pressure of his lips and forget that he is too old and too chubby to have this gorgeous fucker of a popstar hovering over him.

it’s when harry breaks away and shifts down again, presses sucking kisses down nick’s chest and onto his stomach, that it gets painful again.

‘harry,’ nick whines, and he doesn’t know what he is pleading for but in his chest it feels a lot like stop.

‘you’re perfect, sweetheart, you’re lovely. you’re so so gorgeous, fuck.’ harry babbles into nick’s tummy, starting to suck a mark next to his belly button.

nick has been too nervous, too self-conscious to get hard up to now, but suddenly harry shifts just right and nick feels his hot length pressing into his thigh and that- that is a completely different story.

harry feels nick’s cock twitch and presses the heel of his hand into it, curls his fingers, rubbing gently until nick is aching.

harry pulls away from the fresh mark on nick’s tummy, licks hotly over it and then latches on a couple of centimetres lower. nick groans, low in his throat, wishing harry would just leave his chub alone and get onto his cock.

he tells him so, huffing through another moan as harry’s fingers drag the fabric of his pants over the tip of his cock.

‘shut up,’ harry murmurs, though he is almost rutting against nick’s leg himself. ‘you’re so fucking hot, god, i’m hard just from touching your ‘chub’ you fucker.’ harry’s lips smear against his flushed skin, and nick’s head drops back onto the bed because shit.

harry’s hard just from this, just from kissing at nick’s body, and nick thinks he might explode with how fucking hot that is.

‘okay, okay, shit,’ nick swallows hard, fits his fingers into harry’s curls,’but i-’

‘you’re gorgeous, nick,’ harry groans, ‘fuck, i love you.’

and before nick can think harry is shifting up his body, pulling both their pants down around their thighs and wrapping their cocks up in one of his huge hands.

nick presses the back of his wrist into his mouth to muffle a groan, but harry is shameless, moaning out his name low and rough.

‘nick, ah, fuck.’

harry presses his fingers to the scattered bruises on nick’s tummy and instead of making nick feel sick, it just makes him really want to kiss him.

he tilts his chin up and harry leans down to meet him and nick thinks there might be stars in his blood because he is fizzing. harry swipes his tongue along nick’s lip and his thumb over the heads of their cocks and nick shudders, voice cracking on a groan.

‘shit, harry.’

he can feel the smooth heat of harry’s dick against his own and his hand is tight around them both, pulling nick apart with slow, wet drags. it would be embarrassing how fast he is coming undone, but nick can’t make himself care. then he feels harry tense, watches the strong line of his neck as his head falls back and he spurts hot over both of them, dripping between his fingers and onto nick’s stomach. 

and that’s it, the whole thing is too much too much and with one more drag of harry’s lax hand, nick bites his lip and shudders and he’s coming too. 

when he opens his eyes again, harry still looks a bit spaced out. his eyes are lidded and he’s got himself propped up with one hand next to nick’s hip. he smears the other through the come on nick’s stomach, pressing his fingers again into the bruises there.

‘yeah, yeah,’ nick half-laughs, chest heaving. ‘i get it, i’m gorgeous.’

harry smiles with half his mouth and his dimple pops. ‘you are.’ and he’s painfully honest, as usual, but nick can’t be bothered to tease him anymore.

he just pulls harry down next to him and snuggles into his side and whispers into his neck, a quick and quiet ‘thanks,’ that means a lot more than nick will ever let on.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry idk ♡♡♡♡♡


End file.
